My sister with whom I was meeting, warned me that I would most likely be pulled aside at the airport and questioned because of my appearance. She walked me through the process and assured me that she would be there in no time. “Yahya, do as they say but know your rights.” She gave me the number of the U.S. embassy, just in case, leaving me questioning …show more content…
She took it with a short-lived smile. As soon as she saw my name, she returned my passport and sternly told me “Go there and they will tell you what to do”. This was the moment I had been prepared for. The moment I thought I was prepared for.
“Where were you born?”
“Where were your parents born?”
“What is your father's name?”
“What is his father's name?”
“Are you a Muslim?”
“Do you speak Arabic?” I knew to answer this one with a no since my sister specified that would not lead to anything good.
I didn't know how to feel. I was racially profiled. I was being held based on my ethnicity and religious affiliation. But were they going to let me see my ancestral homeland? I was placed in a room at the center of the airport, surrounded by transparent glass. There were both men and women in that room each carrying an exhausted look of desperation. I felt a strange combination of fear and comfort as I noticed that mostly everyone around me was Arab. There was a thick stench of sweat in the air as the people who passed by gave the occasional judgmental glare. They stared at me as if I did something wrong, to the point where I had almost begun to believe it myself. I asked the guard when I would be able to leave.
“Just sit down it will just take a couple minutes,” she